


The Court of Dreams

by EmrystheWarlock



Series: The Mayhem of Mercia [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Prince Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrystheWarlock/pseuds/EmrystheWarlock
Summary: Merlin has come to the Court of Mercia. As he adjusts to his role as Prince, he makes a few friends and discovers a few things of his own.





	The Court of Dreams

In the days that followed his departure of Camelot, Merlin learned what it truly meant to be a king…of sorts. The traditions of Mercia greatly differed from that of Camelot, and not necessarily for the worse. As much as he loved Camelot and its people, he was willing to concede their faults. Camelot’s people were a biased people, namely in places of rank and those they allowed to knighthood. Imagine his shock when the morning after he arrived in Mercia, he knocked straight into a woman dressed in the livery of a knight of Mercia.

They both went down, falling into a crumpled heap on the hallway floor. Merlin picked himself up, stuttering apologies all the while. “S-sorry,” He gasped out and extended her a hand, which she waved away. She too stood and went to brush herself off.

“It’s no problem, really.” She muttered. Merlin stared at her dumbly, still trying to process. The woman cocked her head at him as if trying to figure something out. Unwillingly, Merlin felt a furious blush creep up his neck. “You’re that man from Camelot, aren’t you? The one that turned out to be Lot’s son.”

Merlin felt compelled to answer. “Y-yeah. That’s me. Lot’s son. Who are you?” The woman frowned at him.

“Mare Stoor, eldest daughter of Duke Beron Stoor. He controls all the sea ports from Eastern Mercia to the border of Essetir.” Beron. Merlin recognized that name, but couldn’t quite remember where. The Knight's deep green eyes pierced into his as if she could hear what he was thinking. In an effort to look casual, he leaned against the corridor wall, but only succeeded in losing his balance. He flailed and was only able to keep himself from nosediving into the ground by a firm grasp on his forearm. It was Mare. An amused grin quirked at her mouth.

“Clumsy,” she murmured, “Better be careful there. Wouldn't want to cause an accident.” Merlin flushed. Damn him and his clumsy tendencies. He straightened. It was high time to get this situation under control. “So,” he started. She lifted an eyebrow. “You’re a knight, then.” Mare grinned.

“Second in command. Kay’s first. Won’t be long before I catch him though.” She rested a hand on the hilt of her sword, though not in a threatening way. More with an air of pride, as if she had fought hard for her title, which, Merlin supposed, she probably had. It was not every day one found themselves in the presence of a female knight, and especially one with such high rank.

“Kay,” he said, “How is he?”

“Run into him, have you?” She grinned at him knowingly. Merlin was reminded dismally of their first encounter, where Kay had proceeded to practically run over him with his horse and then later humiliate him in the market. Yes, he thought. I have met Kay. First impressions were everything, and Kay hadn't had a very good one with him. “Kay is Kay. Pigheaded. Stubborn. An all around jackass. He's not always been like that though. You just have to get to know him. He has a good heart underneath it all.” Merlin had trouble believing that if their previous encounters were anything to go by.

It seemed that Mare was following his train of thought for she sighed and looked at him. “Look,” she said, “Kay was the one who gave me the opportunity to become a knight in the first place. Without him, I’d be just another lady, dressed in the finest silks and whose only worry was how she looked for the next party. He saved my life.” She finished simply. Merlin frowned at her. Perhaps it wasn't fair to judge someone on first impressions. He wasn't utterly convinced of his innocence, but he’d give him another chance and see how it went. One chance.

Mare interrupted his thoughts. She brushed a wisp of long blond hair from her face before saying, “Your name. I never asked.” Merlin gazed at her for a long moment.

“Merlin.” He said finally. “My name is Merlin.”

“Just Merlin?” She teased.

“Yes-no…I mean-“ He stammered, and she threw her head back and laughed. It was light and filled with happiness, reminding Merlin of a warm spring day. Merlin decided that he really liked her laugh.

“Well then, Just Merlin,” She continued, and extended out a hand, which Merlin shook firmly. “To a long and prosperous friendship.”

Merlin repeated her, grinning too. “To a long and prosperous friendship.”

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

  
“Right-block-parry-parry left-I said _left_ -you’re not a sitting duck, _Mer_ lin. Stop acting like it.” One last clash and Merlin crumpled to his knees and fell helplessly to the grass. He groaned and the training helmet came off his head, revealing a smugly grinning Kay above him. Merlin groaned again and cast a hand over his eyes, letting the dulled sword drop limply from his fingers. Training. He _hated_ training. _And_  he was on the ground. _Again_.

“Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. I’ve seen kitchen maids perform better than you.” Kay remarked, not quite able to keep the devilish glee from his voice.

“You’re having fun with this.” Merlin moaned.

“Perhaps I wouldn't be having so much fun if you stopped giving me the injured puppy dog look every time I hit you.”

Merlin pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. Honestly, how could anyone have fun with this torture? “I’m being abused.” He said. “I should have you arrested for assaulting royalty.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Kay rolled his eyes and stuck out a hand for Merlin to take. Merlin grasped it reluctantly, but let Kay pull him to his feet. “It’s unbecoming of a prince.”

“What would _you_ know about how a prince should act? You’re just a knight.” Merlin couldn't resist the jibe. He was sick and tired of people treating him like he was a child. Just because he was new to being royalty didn't mean people had to baby him through it. He was a big boy now.

Kay glared at him, gaze darkened. “You have no _idea_ what I know, _Mer_ lin.” He seethed. Merlin frowned at the sudden change of mood. Perhaps he had hit a nerve, though Merlin couldn't imagine how. “And I suggest you keep your nose out of where it doesn't belong.” Merlin stared at his retreating back as Kay walked away. A sudden thought made itself known. _You heard what he said, Emrys._ Merlin thought. _Ignore him. Let him walk away. Don’t-_

“I remember what you said. Back in Camelot.” Merlin called. Kay froze in his tracks. “ _Prince_ Kay, you said. Not _Sir_ Kay or even _Knigh_ t Kay. _Prince_ Kay. As if it were something you said every day. Like a title you grew up with.”

“It was a mistake,” Kay said coldly. “You heard wrong.”

“No. No, I don't think I did.” Because Merlin was on to something. Something big. It was coming together now, like putting together the pieces of a puzzle. King Lot. Mercia’s sudden arrival in Camelot. Kay’s glares. Their eagerness to proclaim Merlin heir and bring him back to Mercia. Quick. Too quick. If Mercia was truly without an heir for as long as they claimed…

“You heard wrong,” Kay repeated, voice trembling on the last word.

“It was you.” Merlin realized. How could he have been so _stupid_? “You were the Crown Prince of Mercia. You were Lot’s heir.” Kay bowed his head, fists clenching and unclenching at his side. Merlin eyed them warily.

“Not here, Merlin.” He muttered. Knights still lingered about, looking at the two of them curiously. “In my chambers. Now.” Merlin refused, crossing his arms over his chest. Any thoughts of training were long gone.

“No, I don't think I will, thanks. Kay, this is my chance. If you're the true Prince, I could be free. I could go home.”

“Merlin,” Kay pleaded. “My chambers. Please.” Merlin’s brow furrowed. He didn't think Kay was capable of manners. “Please.” He repeated, tone bordering on begging. Kay looked like a rabbit caught in a trap and, despite his better judgment, Merlin couldn't say no. He wasn't cruel.

“If I follow you,” he started. “You tell me everything. Don't leave out a single detail. Not even one.” Kay nodded affirmatively, looking relieved. Suddenly, he seemed a whole lot less threatening. More like a scared little boy with far too many secrets than the proud and invulnerable Knight he was supposed to be. “Okay, then.” Merlin breathed. “Lead the way.”

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

“My mother was Queen Farah of Mercia…my father a simple servant. Lucan, I think his name was.” Kay paused to sit down across from Merlin, a goblet of wine clenched tightly in his right hand, the liquid sloshing around the edges. His other hand grasped the arm rest of his chair tightly as if he could take out all his frustrations on the single piece of wood. “Some Twenty-five years ago, my mother was married to King Lot, but she was unhappy. She sought comfort in the arms of a faceless servant, one whom she had known since childhood. Soon, their friendship dissolved into something more. When Lot found out, he was furious and ordered Lucan put to death-quietly, so that the Queen’s scandal would not be discovered. Farah was heartbroken. But the damage was already done. Four months later, it was revealed that the Queen was with child.” He paused to sip his wine. Merlin leaned forward in his chair, curious. “Everyone, including Lot, assumed that it was his and Farah’s child. None but Farah and her most trusted handmaiden, Hunith, knew the truth. And so it was that I was born Prince Kay of Mercia, the son of King Lot and Queen Farah. A year later, Farah died from birthing difficulties of another child, though that is only the official reason. Her handmaidens say she died of a broken heart.” _Hunith_. Merlin thought. _Oh mother, what have you done?_

“As I grew older, none suspected the truth, not even me. But on the night of my Twenty-first birthday, that is when things went to hell. The Citadel had thrown a huge feast to celebrate my coming of age. They had spared no expense. When the Lords and Ladies had all sat down for the coronation and I had said my vows to become Crown Prince of Mercia, the usher called for any objections. That snake Beron shot straight up, waving about an old, crinkled piece of paper as if it held all the secrets of the universe.” Kay bitterly shook his head. “He claimed it was an old letter of my mother’s, and that it explained that I was not, in fact, Lot’s son, but a bastard child of some nameless servant.”

“Could the letter not have been falsified?” Merlin interrupted. “That could have been any old letter.”

“You’re grasping at straws, Merlin,” Kay said sadly. “And besides, the letter’s accuracy was confirmed by our Court Sorcerer, though I have reservations about that man as well.” He took another swig of wine.

“Soon after, I was disinherited, though Lot did let me stay on as First Knight. He had his Court Sorcerer cast a spell across the entire citadel and all the lands of the Five Kingdoms. Prince Kay of Mercia no longer existed. I was forgotten-am still forgotten.” Kay finished, leaning back in his chair.

“But what about after?” Merlin pressed. “Why come to Camelot? Where do I come in?”

“You were the child that died, Merlin. The one Farah died giving birth to. Everyone assumed the baby had gone with her.” He waved a dismissive hand.

“But I didn’t. I’m here. I’m alive.”

“Yes,” Kay muttered, as if in deep thought. “I can only assume that when Farah died, the handmaiden Hunith stole you away while Lot was distracted by his grief. He blamed you, you know.” He jibed.

“Thanks,” Merlin said sarcastically. “But I still don’t understand. Why does Lot need me? Why can't he find someone else who actually wants to be king?” Kay gave him an _Are you thick?_ look.

“King Lot is old, Merlin,” Kay explained, as if to a particularly stupid child. “He cannot have any more children. You are his immediate heir. If he left the throne to a distant relative or a noble of the court, there would be anarchy. People would fight over who got the crown and Mercia would go to war. We’d be ripped apart from the inside. We need an heir. An immediate heir. You just happened to fit the bill.”

Merlin sunk into his chair, disheartened. “So there is nothing we can do? Do you honestly expect me to believe that I cannot ever return home? Not without putting the lives of thousands at risk?”

“‘fraid so.” Kay pat on his back, which Merlin thought was supposed to be comforting, but only made his already sore back hurt more. Merlin didn't think he could make his hatred of training any more clear. “But look on the bright side, Merlin. At least you're not scrubbing out old pots now. You get to see your Arthur at least once a year. Twice, if you're lucky.” Merlin grunted dismally in response.

“Look,” Kay sighed, pinching his nose. “I'll put out a subtle word that next week a Mercian party will be leaving Camelot for a week long hunting trip along the border of Camelot. Perhaps your Arthur will hear about it and set up a party of his own. And perhaps, though unlikely, you hear, we may happen to intersect at some point and who knows, we may decide to join up. The decision’s all yours, of course.” Merlin looked up at him, doe-eyed.

“You’d do that for me? I don't even know you-not really.” Kay fiddled with his jacket sleeve.

“Mercia needs a strong leader, Merlin. Lot is dying. Soon, you will have to stand up and take his place. I will not have a man, homesick for another kingdom and sharing no empathy with his own, as her king. If reuniting you with your friend, however brief, is what you need to pull yourself together, then I’ll damn well make sure that happens. Agreed?”

And for the second time in a little over two weeks, Merlin made a deal with those he had once feared. Merlin’s perception was changing, and perhaps for the better. Distantly, he remembered the parting words Arthur had left him. _“The Court of Nightmares,”_ he called it and, _“Be careful.”_ He told him. But then he remembered Mare’s words. _“To a long and prosperous friendship.”_ She had proclaimed happily. Merlin had repeated her, surprising himself by how much he meant it.

He remembered how different Mercia was from Camelot and every other place he had been. They had allowed women and common men to join their ranks, even going so far as to proclaim a woman their second in command. He saw how they treated their servants, not with disdain, but with the respect and dignity they deserved. He saw their casual use of magic, and how it still shocked and pleased him every single day. Yes, this place had its flaws, as did every place, but perhaps it had not deserved its name.

_The Court of Nightmares_. Merlin mulled it over. He wondered if perhaps the Court of Dreams was a far better fit.

**Author's Note:**

> It's only about 2500 words long, but I still spent most of the night working on it. It's completely unbetaed (as per usual) and so any mistakes are entirely my own. Please, please, comment on this and tell me what you think. Should I continue this or not?


End file.
